


Persons, Places, Things

by powidl



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, F/F, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Set between Daredevil S1 and S2 with heavy comic-book references, au where cristina goes to mt sinai, instead of getting on the plane crash of despair
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 14:45:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14956637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/powidl/pseuds/powidl
Summary: A story where Milla Donovan and Matt Murdock meet. This time, they get a happy friendship instead of a tragic love story.(Also, Milla and Cristina Yang are dating. Because they're two of my favorite ladies, and Cristina deserves a happy ending and a healthy relationship, too!)





	Persons, Places, Things

"...he said you're forgetting the nostalgia factor, Milla."

"Nostalgia factor?" Milla leaned back against the wall outside the bakery, adjusting her phone against her ear. "Me?"

"It's what _he_ said, not what _I_ said," Lori reminded her.

"I know," Milla sighed. "That's just... so disappointing."

"It  _is_ an old hotel, though."

"There's--There's this book I am listening to and in it the author explains his theory about how nostalgia is--what did he call it?" Milla paused looking for the words. "Nostalgia is a state of inarticulate contempt to the present and a fear of the future. Something like that." 

"Alrighty then," Lori laughed. "All the dude's saying is--"

"But it's right though, isn't it?" Milla interrupted. "Not everything old is good. People remember things--the glory days or whatever. It's a fleabag motel. There are people on the streets of Hell's kitchen  _today,_ with no place to sleep."

"True," Lori said. 

"That's all I'm saying--put up a plaque and give people a place to sleep." 

"Okay, Artie's here, I gotta go. It might just be a historical building? Think about it." 

"I will. See you--" Milla began, but as she did, she heard screams and shouts around her. 

"Out of the way!" she heard a woman call in the distance, and then all of a sudden, she felt herself being pushed to the ground, a large crash behind her, just about where she had been standing. 

After a moment of shock at the whole thing, Milla realised she had scraped her arm on the pavement. The person who had fallen on her, after a moment on his part, began asking her if she was okay. 

"Ma'am, are you okay? Can you hear me? I'm so sorry I pushed you--"

"I--" Milla began, slowly turning herself over and pushing herself up. Yep, she was going to be sore tomorrow. The man, in response to her movements, began shifting off the floor and disentangling himself from her as well. 

"I think my arm is bleeding, but it's just a scrape," she said, lifting it gingerly. 

"I'm so sorry," the man said.

"Don't be, I think the alternative would have been worse," Milla almost began to laugh, but winced. Okay, she might have a bruised rib, too. "Are you hurt?"

"No, I don't think so," he said. "I had the fortune of having a cushion." 

Milla smiled. She liked this mans sense of humor. 

Then other voices interrupted. All of a sudden, she felt arms--not the man who had fallen on her--pulling at her, presumably trying to help her up, but really just pulling at her already sore shoulder. "Please don't," she said aloud. She leaned away from the arms. "Thank you, but really I'm fine, and the pulling hurts." At that, the people mostly stopped, but were definitely still crowding her and the man. 

"Yes, thank you," the man said, now standing. Milla began pushing herself to a standing position too. She grunted as she did--she could tell her body was definitely rattled by the situation, but she'd been in worse spots. 

The man continued. "We're fine, just slightly shaken. Is the driver okay?"

"Oh right, the truck," Milla heard someone exclaim. She shook her head, wincing as her neck pulled.

Thankfully, the crowd began to dissipate. Cops on scene took a brief statement from her and Matt, as his name turned out to be, and who turned out to be a lawyer, and persuaded the cops to keep it brief. Milla was checking over her phone--there was a new crack in the screen, but it seemed to be working fine. (Her cane on the other hand, seemed to be out of order. "Crap," she muttered under her breath. She hadn't brought a spare.) It was at this point Matt leaned over.

"Wanna get out of here now?" he asked. 

That was when she heard it: someone talking to what could only be a reporter, arriving on scene just as the ambulance did. The person talking was saying, "forget the dumbass driver, blind dude saving blind chick, that's the story you want." 

"Milla, if you want to hang around--need ambulance help or want to talk more to the cops or reporters--"

"And be framed as the damsel in distress? No thank you," Milla responded. "Don't get me wrong, I'm very grateful for you pushing me out of the way, but I'm not interested in talking to thow reporters. That's not my scene, not unless I'm raising awareness about one of my cases. Which I don't feel would be the focus of this story."

"Yeah, fair enough," Matt said. "My apartment is right around the corner, and I have a ... sizeable first aid kit which you can help yourself too. And spare canes, if you'de like to borrow one?"

"Sounds like a plan," Milla said. "Let's get out of here." 


End file.
